


Damian's Secret

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trafficking bust leads to Damian's deepest secret being revealed. Warning: depictions of abuse, molestation, and murder, all involving children. Do not read if you may be triggered by such content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damian's Secret

Damian’s Secret

 

It was still an hour before the scheduled patrol when Nightwing entered the cave.  The computer was flicking through images of tonight’s target on several different screens as Nightwing approached.  He didn’t see the top of a head sticking out over the computer’s high backed chair, but just assumed that Bruce was leaning forward.  He was relatively surprised that the person in the chair was Damian, dressed in full Robin attire.

When Nightwing was still a couple steps away and approaching silently, Robin said, “Hello, Nightwing.”

 _So much for that_ , Nightwing thought.  “Robin, you’re ready early.  Batman around?

Robin hitched his head towards the stairs without taking his eyes off of the screens.  “He’s still upstairs, talking with Drake.  They’re talking about office work, I think.  I wanted to get a little more information about tonight’s target before we headed out.”

Robin set the three monitors all to the same picture.  The target in question was Anders Thorsen, an up and coming smuggler turned human trafficker.  He had been basing himself around Gotham City lately, but hadn’t shown up on anyone’s radar.  Then, last week, a cargo ship was raided in Gotham Harbor by customs officials, acting on a tip that the ship was being used to smuggle counterfeit high-end electronics.  Not only did the customs officers find the electronics, they also found a cargo container holding fourteen young women, bound for the sex trades in Eastern Europe.  In exchange for a plea deal, the cargo ship captain gave up Thorsen as the trafficker.  Commissioner Gordon had very little to go on, and had called Batman immediately and turned over the case.  After a week of investigating and gathering clues, Batman was ready to move on the human trafficker.

Nightwing leaned forward to get a better look at the man on the screen, hoping to memorize every detail before confronting the man.  He placed his hands on Robin’s shoulders to prop himself up as he leaned in. 

“Geez, Robin.  Your shoulders are all tense.” He began massaging the solid mass of knotted muscle under the costume.  “I thought we talked about this.  You need to relax more, Baby Bat.  It doesn’t do anyone any good when you get yourself all worked up like this.”  Robin closed his eyes and allowed himself to melt into the ministrations of his oldest brother and best friend. 

Bruce and Tim made their way silently into the cave, stopping at the foot of the stairs as they saw Damian relaxing for what seemed like the first time in days.  Bruce had noticed that this case seemed to affect Damian more than past cases.  Bruce noticed the change when he brought home a new rumor about Thorsen two days ago.  None of them were pleased that word was getting around that Thorsen was now dealing in children, but Damian seemed to take the news harder than everyone else.  He hadn’t explained the change, but he had worked harder to find any leads about Thorsen’s location.

Bruce caught Nightwing’s eye and gave him a smile as Bruce and Tim made their way to the locker room to change into their uniforms.  Robin was almost asleep under the strong hands of Nightwing when the voice of Batman interrupted his thoughts, from very close by.

“Boys?  Are you ready to go?”

Startled, Robin jumped out of the chair as Batman did his best not to smirk at the blush darkening his son’s cheeks.

“Ready, Father.”

“Okay,” Batman said, hiding his smirk, “We’ve been working this one all week.  You all know your assignments.  Let’s go get this bastard.”

As they walked to the Batmobile, Robin touched Nightwing’s elbow and hung back a step from the others.  When Nightwing stopped as well, Robin stood up on his toes to whisper in the man’s ear.  “Thank you, I needed that.  I feel better now.”

Robin walked off as Nightwing just smiled.

Forty-five minutes later, Batman parked the Batmobile in the alley behind Bangers and Mash, a terribly themed space with a dance club on the first floor and a strip club on the second floor.  It had long been rumored to be a front for a prostitution ring, but until the capture of the cargo ship, there had not been enough evidence to raid the place.  Now, Batman had everything he needed to get his man.

The Bat and Birds stepped from the car and gathered around the front bumper for last minute instructions.  As he approached the front, Red Robin sneezed.  Looking pale under his cowl, he rasped out, “Batman, you should have left me at home.  Giving the criminals the flu is not a viable crime fighting technique.”

Batman regarded his third son.  The teen was sweating and shaking, and if he hadn’t been leaning against the front of the car, Batman was not sure he would be able to stand on his own.  “Maybe you’re right.  You didn’t look this bad at the cave, your fever must be getting worse.  Okay, we’ll switch assignments.  Robin, you take the cellar.  Red Robin, you’re on overwatch.”

Looking at each other, Red Robin croaked out, “Get ‘em, Little Bat.”

Nodding, Robin said, “Feel better, Red.”

Batman looked down to hide his smile before continuing.  “Nightwing, back door.  I have the front.  Move.”

The Bat-family split off in their own directions.  Red Robin took position on the roof of a low tenement building across the street from the club.  From his position, he could see angles on both the front and back doors.  He barely made it to the rooftop as a bout of nausea threatened to empty his stomach.  Nightwing and Robin both entered the back of the building, but while Nightwing continued on, Robin took the first left towards the loading dock and the entrance to the cellar.  Nightwing entered the dance club and melted into the shadows of the dimly lit room.  Batman grappled up to the roof to enter through a second floor window.

A minute later, the radio crackled, and Batman’s voice came over the line.  “Report.”

“Overwatch is clear.  Everything is quiet out here,” Red Robin answered with a cough.

“Club level is almost empty.  I guess Wednesday night is not a big party night in Gotham City.”  Nightwing had to whisper to not be overheard in the almost library-like atmosphere of the dancehall.

“Storage cellar is clear, but I found a door leading to a hidden staircase that looks like it goes to another basement.  Schematics didn’t show this building having another basement,” Robin reported quietly.

Batman thought for a moment before responding.  “Okay, proceed with caution, Robin.  Report in every five minutes.  _Do not_ be late calling in.  Nightwing?”

“Right, moving to the rear entry hall.  Just call if you need a hand, Robin.”

Robin made his way down the stairs and found himself in a hallway.  Four doors at regular intervals lined each side of the hallway.  Another door that looked like a loading gate capped the far end of the hall.

Robin cautiously opened the first door on the left, followed by the first door on the right, and found the same things in both.  Each room had a bed, a mirror hung on the wall, and a mural depicting an open window looking out on a field painted on the far wall.  Neither room was occupied, but the sheets on the bed in the second room were rumpled, and the blanket was lying on the floor, as if it had been used recently.

As he slowly opened the door to the third room, he saw a sight that made his blood run cold.  An overweight man was leaning over the bed, naked, propping himself up on his arms, thrusting his waist into an unseen, and, Robin assumed, most likely unwilling, recipient.  The sounds of anguished, high-pitched grunts and cries and the sight of small feet on either side of the corpulent creep’s waist confirmed the one rumor that the entire Bat-family had hoped was not true: Thorsen was definitely selling children for sex.

Enraged, Robin pulled one of Nightwing’s old collapsible staffs from his belt and slammed it into the oblivious man’s head as hard as he could.  The man instantly collapsed onto the bed as the staff drew a sickening crunch that could only mean the man was now sporting a cracked skull.  Robin hit him again for good measure and heard a small voice coming from under the man.

“Hey, Mister?  You’re hurting me!  Please, I can’t breathe!”

Robin grabbed the unconscious, bleeding man’s shoulder and threw him to the ground, none too gently.  Underneath, he found a naked blonde boy of roughly his own age.  The man had been raping the boy, and there was a small trickle of blood dripping down one thigh.  The boy stood up, shocked and scared, and backed himself into the corner of the room.

Robin looked at the condition of the boy for a second before pulling a stained sheet off of the bed and wrapping it around the other child.  Before leaving the room, Robin said, “Stay here.  The police will be here soon.  You never have to do anything like this again.  You’re safe now.”  As he walked out of the room and prepared himself for what he might find in the next room, he heard the child begin to cry.

The sounds of the sobs inflamed his anger and he dropped all pretense of stealth as he kicked in the door across the hall, sending it swinging to the wall with a resounding crash.  This room held a middle aged man and another boy, this one around nine or ten years old.  The man was kneeling before the boy, kissing him as he pulled the kid’s pants off.  Caught off guard by the surprise opening of the door, the man turned, indignant.

“What the hell, man?  My time isn’t up yet, I just got here…Oh, shit!”

The man had paled as he saw the Boy Wonder standing in the doorway.  He then collapsed in a heap as Robin hit him with a nerve strike.  Robin threw a few kicks to the ribs of the pedophile as he lay unconscious on the floor.

He approached the child, who had backed into a corner, much like the boy in the last room.  “Pull your pants up.  The police are coming.  Wait here and you will be okay, I promise.”

The child looked at the incapacitated man lying on the floor.  Robin followed his eyes and said, “He can’t hurt you anymore.  The police will get here before he wakes up.  But, if he wakes up first, just yell, and I’ll come and hit him again.”  Robin wrapped the blanket from the bed around the child’s shoulders and turned to leave the room.

He felt a small hand land on his arm and turned back to the boy.  “Thank you, Robin.  The man is across the hall.”

Robin started at the news and asked, “Thorsen?  Tall, blonde, kinda chunky?”  The child nodded.  Robin gave a grim smile and whispered, “You won’t have to worry about him for too much longer, either.”

Batman checked the time on his cowl lenses as he paced around the room he was occupying.  _Damn it, Robin, I said check in every five minutes, where are you?_   “Robin, report!” Batman hissed into the radio.

“Here, Batman,” came back instantly over the line, only a slight hint of static suggesting that Robin was below ground level.

“Well?”

Robin reported calmly, “Target apprehended, bring in the police and paramedics.  We will probably need counselors or CPS or something, too.  And, get down here, before I kill this bastard.”

 _Did he say CPS?  So, the rumors are true.  Thorsen is trafficking in kids._   Batman could tell from the tone of Robin’s voice that his son was having a hard time keeping his promise to not kill.  “Nightwing, go!”  Batman ran and dove out the same window he entered and made for the back door.  He figured it would be the easiest and fastest way to get to the basement. 

He arrived three minutes later to find Nightwing coming out of a door at the end of the hall, looking extremely unhappy.  “Nightwing?  Were you too late?”

Nightwing shook his head, “No, Robin is holding him, waiting for you.  Batman, the rumors were true!”

“Kids?”

“All boys.”

“Any…um..?”

“Two.  Robin caught them in the act.”

Batman shook his head, “Fuck.  God damn it!  Give me the full report, now.”

Nightwing took a deep breath before starting in.  “First two rooms were empty.  Next two each have an unconscious perv and a traumatized kid.” Pointing to a room close by, Nightwing said, “That one has Thorsen, Robin, and another kid.  The one across the hall is empty.  The last two each have five boys, no pervs.  That must have been where they kept the kids, there are pretty heavy locks on the doors.”

“So, thirteen children in total?”

“Yeah, that’s my count.”

Red Robin’s voice called weakly through the radio.  “Batman, I called the police and reported in.  They are on their way, ETA, five minutes or less.

“Thank you, Red Robin.  Overwatch is done, join us here.”

Entering the room, Batman found their target, bloodied and broken, lying on the floor, held at bay at the end of Robin’s staff.  The man wasn’t wearing pants, and Batman wondered just what Robin caught him doing.

Approaching his son, Batman said softly, “Stand down, Robin.  It’s over.  You got him.  What happened?”

Unspeaking, and not taking his eye off Thorsen, Robin pointed behind him to the far corner of the room, by the door.  There, Batman saw a boy of about eight, with black hair, blue eyes, and tan skin.  He was trying to press his body as far into the corner as possible.  He was naked and shaking in the chill air of the room, and with fright.  Bruises covered large swaths of the boy’s back and legs.

Batman caught the younger boy’s eyes and a startling thought hit the Caped Crusader.  _My God, that kid looks like he could be Damian’s younger brother_.

Robin’s shaking voice brought Batman back to the present, “Batman, please take this piece of shit.”

Turning to Thorsen, Batman growled, “Of course, Robin.  My pleasure.”  Batman pounced on the human trafficker, causing fresh shouts of pain and terror from the man.

From the door, Nightwing watched as Robin approached the frightened child, knelt down to his level, mumbled something that Nightwing couldn’t make out, but caused the child’s eyes to grow wider, then unclipped his cape and wrapped it around the child’s quaking shoulders gently, letting a hand rest on a small shoulder comfortingly for the space of a breath.  Robin then stood up and walked from the room.

Saying nothing to Nightwing in passing, Robin walked to the one door that no one had opened yet that evening, and opened it.  As he thought, it led to a loading dock at the back of the building.  He walked out and didn’t look back.

In the rear alley, Robin was passed by the police heading towards the building.  He kept walking, approaching the Batmobile when Commissioner Gordon stopped him, a concerned look on his gentle face.

“Robin, are you okay?”

Robin answered honestly, “No, Commissioner Gordon.  I’m not.”

“Is it Batman?” The worried man asked.  “Did something happen?”

Still not looking up at the man, Robin said, “No, he’s fine.  We caught the traffickers.  Batman has them.  They were…were…It was kids, Commissioner, and I don’t think any of them were older than me.”

Robin vaguely realized that he shouldn’t be revealing his age to the police Commissioner, but he really didn’t care at that point.  Turning, he opened the canopy to the Batmobile, jumped in, and sealed the roof behind him, blocking out the world.

Commissioner Gordon stood next to Batman in the subterranean hallway as medical personnel wheeled the three unconscious adults out on gurneys.  Counselors and Child Protective Services agents were corralling the children for a trip to the hospital.

“Batman?  How bad are we looking here?”

“Pretty bad.  Even one child is too many, we have thirteen.  Thorsen and two pedophiles were caught in the act of abusing these children.  Robin caught them.”

Commissioner Gordon was shocked, “ _Robin_ caught them?  No wonder he looked so disturbed.”

Batman’s head snapped around to the other man’s face, “Wait, what?”

Nodding, Gordon said, “I ran into Robin outside, on my way in.  He was heading for the Batmobile.  I just figured you sent him out, to keep him from seeing this.”

 _Robin had to leave?  He’s never left a job before me unless ordered to._   Batman felt the strongest parental urge of his life, and turned to face the Commissioner fully.  “Are we done here, Jim?”

Understanding the tone of voice, even though he had never heard it come from Batman before, Commissioner Gordon said, “Go, Batman.  Take care of your boy, that’s more important right now.  Come to my office tomorrow, we can take care of anything we need to then.”

Batman turned wordlessly and fled the building, Nightwing following in his wake.

Returning to the car after meeting up with Red Robin, Batman neared panic when he saw no one in the area.

“Where is he?  Gordon said he was waiting by the car.”

Batman turned as he heard the canopy of the Batmobile retract, revealing the young vigilante sitting in the passenger seat.  “Right here, Batman.  I didn’t know how long you would be, and I needed to sit down.”  Robin looked down, away from his family.

Batman shot a look at Nightwing, who shrugged.  Neither one knew what had set off the young bird, but both had noticed that his voice sounded off.  They piled into the car and headed back to the cave.

About halfway home, Batman could no longer take the silence.  “What did you see, Robin?  What did you catch them doing?”

Robin continued to look out the window, refusing to look at his family as he said, “Nuh-uh.”

“Robin?” Batman asked.

Robin emphatically shook his head, then closed his eyes behind his mask.  His eyes flew open again quickly as he saw the scared, abused children plastered behind his eyelids, his mind stopping on a fourth image that wasn’t found in the basement tonight.

The utterance caught Nightwing’s attention.  _Nuh-uh?  Robin doesn’t say nuh-uh.  I say nuh-uh, because, as Damian describes it, I have the mind of a child.  Damian doesn’t have that, has never had that.  Something serious must have happened down there tonight._

As soon as the Batmobile pulled to a stop in the cave, Damian jumped out, ripped off his mask, and all but ran to the showers.  Bruce watched him go, peeling off his cowl as he said to Dick, “Dick, he tells you everything.  What’s going on?”

Dick shook his head, taking off his own mask.  “He tells me a lot, Bruce, but not everything.  I might have an idea, though.”

“Dickie, I need to know what can affect him like this,” Bruce almost pleaded.

Dick took a deep breath and laid out his guess.  “Well, last month, when we rented that horrible movie, I saw Damian shaking like that, after I caught him looking at porn…”

Bruce interrupted, “You WHAT?”

Dick winced, “That didn’t come out right.  Bruce, the video store has an adult section in the back.  I told Damian not to go behind the curtain, but I didn’t tell him why, so, of course, he was curious.  He went back there for less than a minute, and he came out all pale and shaking, kinda like tonight.  He was literally looking _at_ porn, not actually _watching_ porn.  Don’t get mad at him for that.”

Bruce shook his head, “I should probably be mad at you for that.  What does that have to do with this?”

Dick continued, “After he told me that he was okay, I asked him if it was the first time he had seen a naked person, thinking that was what shocked him.  He said it wasn’t, but that he couldn’t talk about it.  He did say it had something to do with an old League of Assassins mission.”

Walking to the locker room, Bruce and Dick saw Damian, showered and dressed, slip out and sneak towards the stairs.  Bruce cringed and said, “We should probably give Alfred a heads up to watch out for him until we can get up there.”

As Bruce went for the intercom, Alfred appeared at the bottom of the stairs.  Seeing only Bruce and Dick, he approached and asked, “Where are Master Timothy and Master Damian?”

Bruce and Dick looked at each other, concerned.  Finally, Dick answered, “Um, Timmy is in the shower.  His cold is much worse.  You didn’t see Damian?”

A look of slight concern on his face, Alfred said, “No, should I have, sir?”

Bruce said, “You should have passed him on the stairs, he was heading up just a minute ago.”

Alfred was startled, “Heading up?  Already?  Is he okay?”

“No, Alfred,” Bruce growled, “He isn’t, and he won’t tell us why.”

The first dynamic duo hit the showers and got changed as quickly as possible.  When they were done, they sprinted past a concerned Alfred, helping a feverish Tim up the stairs.  They made their way to Damian’s room and found the last thing they expected.  Damian’s door was open.  They were so sure that Damian would have locked himself in his room that Bruce was reaching for his key when they approached the open portal.  Bruce and Dick looked in from the door to find Damian sitting on his bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.  The boy was staring resolutely away from the open door, as if he couldn’t stand to look at his father and brother.  What struck Dick was how lost Damian looked.  What caught Bruce’s attention most was the fact that Damian was shaking and rocking himself slightly back and forth.

“Father, Grayson…”the boy whispered in acknowledgement of their presence.

Bruce started in, “Damian, can we…”

Damian cut him off, “No, Father.  Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”  _I can’t.  Things were so good around here lately, I don’t want that to change._

Dick spoke up, “Damian, we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“You can’t help me,” Damian whispered, almost too low to be heard, “No one can.”

Bruce was hurt, “Why can’t we help you, son?  You can tell me anything.  I’m not going to judge you for what happened in the past.  Nothing you can say will change how I feel about you.”

“Don’t make that promise, Father.  You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Why can’t you tell me,” Bruce pleaded.

Damian sighed and looked at his family for the first time, eyes red-rimmed.  “Because you’ll get angry.  Not ‘Bruce-angry’, not even ‘Batman-angry’, but ‘Scorched Earth, Total War-angry’.”

As Bruce thought about what that could mean, Dick spoke up.  “What about me?  How about you tell me?”

“No,” Damian shook his head, close to tears, “You will get just as angry, but then you will feel guilty, and I don’t want that.”

Bruce said, “There’s Tim and Alfred.  You could talk to one of them.  You obviously need to talk to someone.”

“I don’t want to see Drake throw up, and I _really_ don’t want to make Pennyworth cry.”

“Damian…”

Damian cut him off, voice cracking as it all became too much to bear.  “Father, please!  I’ve dealt with this long enough.  I can keep dealing with it.”

Bruce spoke softly, “You haven’t dealt with this at all, or we wouldn’t be here like this now.  What’s the real reason, son?”

Tears were streaming from Damian’s eyes as he broke down and said, “Things have been better around here.  For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to have a family, and I like it.  And now, if I tell you this, it will all fall apart.”  Damian’s voice broke as he revealed his fear.

Dick walked forward, intent on comforting his brother.  Damian caught his eye with an involuntary look of fear and said, “Stop.  Please don’t touch me.”

Dick’s feet froze to the floor, Bruce right beside him.  Bruce asked gently, “Does this have to do with that boy tonight?  Is it because he looked a bit like you?”

Damian closed his eyes, his chin dropping to his chest.  There was no way around it anymore.  Damian’s voice was a hair above a breath as he said, “No, it’s because I used to be him.”

Damian sobbed quietly.  _They aren’t going to let this go, I just hope Father was serious about what he said._   Damian looked back up at the confused expressions on the faces of his Father and brother and said in a wavering voice, “Fine, I’ll tell you.  I don’t want to, but I will.  You need to go get Pennyworth and Drake, because I will only _ever_ say this once, and I don’t want to hear about it again, okay?”

Bruce nodded as Dick ran from the room.  He dragged Tim out of bed as Alfred was giving him his latest round of cold medicine, and pulled both men into Damian’s room, giving them a heads up to just listen and not say anything.

When they returned, Bruce said, “You said you used to _be_ him?  I don’t understand…”

Damian was blowing his nose on a tissue Bruce had handed him.  “Yes, but let me do this my way, please.  It’s the only way I’ll ever get through it.  Let me start by saying that the League of Assassins wasn’t all bad.  We didn’t kill people just to kill people.  Sometimes, the people we killed really deserved killing, and a lot of it.  I was trained from day one to use anything and everything at my disposal to get close to and eliminate my targets.  I was bred for physical perfection in every way, including physical and sexual attractiveness.  It was just another weapon to be used against my targets.  I had just as many lessons in how to seduce men and women as I did in the finer points of creating and using improvised weapons.

“Four years ago, the League was contracted to get rid of a human trafficker.  We learned he had a thing for little boys, so I was tasked with eliminating him.  We found another dealer who owed our target a lot of money, and had him send my picture to the trafficker.  The deal was that I was to be partial payment for his debt.  My target agreed; he liked what he saw, I guess.  Our informant told the target that I was being stored for him in a brothel in Indonesia.  I was placed in the brothel and told to watch for the target, who would be looking for me.  However, while I was waiting, since we didn’t know when he would show up, and to divert suspicion at my sudden appearance, I was expected to act as one of the slaves.  That meant I was expected to take…customers.”

Damian stopped, shuddering as he said the word.  Bruce flinched sharply at the same time at the word, and the implication of his son servicing perverts for money.  “How…how long were you…undercover?” Bruce asked through a dry throat and mouth.

Damian closed his eyes as he said, “Almost four weeks.  I had a League contact that disguised himself as a customer to pass me information weekly.  He also brought me the knife I was to use to do the job.”

Bruce was shaking as he asked softly, “And besides him, did you have to see…other…customers?”

Damian couldn’t open his mouth to respond as the memories of the various depravities inflicted on his young body flooded back to him.  He just nodded and turned away as Alfred started sobbing and muttering, “Oh, my boy.  My poor, dear boy.”

When Damian’s gorge had descended and no longer threatened to escape through his mouth, he continued, his voice noticeably weaker than before.  “Finally, after three and a half weeks, my target arrived.  I was…tired…and I wasn’t expecting him.  It…it had been a…a busy day.” Bruce cringed as Dick bit his hand to stop from sobbing out loud.  “I wasn’t prepared, my knife was too far away, hidden in the mattress.  He came in and got right to business.  He…he told me I was too pretty to be in a brothel, then he hit me.  He said he liked a few bruises on his boys.”

Damian looked up at his father to see Bruce’s face beet red with barely contained rage.  Damian continued shakily, “He made me…touch…him, then he stood me on the bed and took my clothes off.  He looked at me for a minute and told me he was going to make me feel good, and when he was done, he was going to take me with him, because I was his now.  Then he…he…”  Damian’s voice hitched to a stop, and Bruce and Dick took another involuntary step forward.  Damian held up his hand to stop them, knowing he had to finish now, or he never would.

He continued, his voice barely a whisper.  “Then he shoved his face into my crotch and started licking me…down there.  I didn’t have my knife, so I had to improvise.  I laid down on the bed, telling him he would be more comfortable.  Then, I wrapped my legs around his neck, and twisted as hard as I could.  I heard the crack.  I could see from the look in his eyes that he was dead, but it wasn’t enough.  I got my knife out of the mattress and stabbed him, over and over.  I slit his throat from ear to ear.  Then I stabbed him in the eye, making sure I scrambled his brain.  Then, I did something I could never tell the League about; I threw up, then sat in the corner and cried.  I took the knife, and his wallet and passport as proof of death, and walked out of the room, out of the brothel, and towards the docks for pick up.  It was only when my contact picked me up that I realized I ran out of the room without getting dressed.  It must have been quite a sight: a bloody, naked eight year old, walking down the streets of Indonesia carrying a bloody knife.  I was taken back to mother, told that my mission was completed adequately, and returned to training.”

Bruce was beginning to shake at the strain of staying in one spot.  “She didn’t even ask what happened?” Bruce growled his question threateningly.

“Just if I completed the job.  When I caught Thorsen tonight, he had the child standing on the bed, with his face in the boy’s crotch.  The look on that kid’s face screamed ‘help me’, and I didn’t see the other boy, I saw myself.  It took everything I had not to kill Thorsen tonight, and I’m still not sure I made the right decision.”

Damian looked around the room.  As he suspected would happen, Alfred was in tears.  Drake slipped out to the bathroom, and could be heard retching.  Whether it was from Damian’s story or his stomach flu was anyone’s guess.  The big surprise for Damian was his Father and Grayson.  Both were standing, staring at the boy, and both were shaking with their efforts to restrain themselves.  What was surprising was that Damian could tell that they were not restraining themselves from kicking Damian out of the house and their lives, as he expected, but that they were restraining themselves from coming to comfort him.  _I told them not to touch me,_ he realized, _but I want nothing more than for them to hug me right now._

Dick stilled first, and all the color left his face as Damian could see him thinking.  _There’s the guilt I was predicting._  

Dick whispered, “Little Brother, I’m so sorry.  Why didn’t you stop me?  Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bruce was confused, but the distraction stilled his quaking, “Dick?”

Guilt rolling off the man, Dick said, “When he first came to us, I forced hugs on him.  I forced him to cuddle with me.  He would flinch every time, or try to get away, but I wouldn’t let him go.  Oh, God, I didn’t know!  You were having flashbacks every time, weren’t you?”

Damian sighed heavily, not wanting to hurt Dick.  “Yes, but I’m glad you didn’t stop.  I didn’t like it at first, it scared me.  I didn’t know what you were going to do; was it going to stop with a hug, or were you going to take me up to your room.  But…you helped me learn how to trust people.”

“Yeah, but I should have asked.  You should have stopped me.  I should have stopped.  I _should_ stop.”

Damian shot a scared look at his brother.  “NO!  You can’t stop.  I didn’t trust you at first, but I do now.”

Tears were rolling down Dick’s cheeks, “But, if I remind you of…them…then…”

Damian interrupted again, “No, you did remind me of them, but…not anymore.  It was hard, but you showed me I could trust you.  Yes, I wasn’t comfortable cuddling with you at first, but it wasn’t like with…them.  Over time, I learned that cuddling with you wasn’t going to end with your hand in my pants or your tongue in my mouth.  That helped me so much, Dick.  You can’t stop now, you can’t.  There are days where I don’t think I can survive if you don’t at least try to cuddle with me.  I need it, because it’s you, and you’re _not them._ ”

Dick looked horrified as he thought back on the entire time he had known Damian.  He whispered, “All those times I snuck up on you and grabbed you…I crawled into bed with you to cuddle…those times when I would hold you down and tickle you…tracing your scars with my fingers.  How can you say I’m not as bad as them?”

Damian pleaded with his brother, “Because I’ve been with them, and nothing they ever did was out of concern for me, or love for me.  Everything you did was because you love me…and I love you.  I need my brother to continue being my brother.”

Bruce’s eyes were dark as Damian turned to him, “Father, I recognize that look.  Please, don’t…”

Bruce cut him off with a low growl, “She let you do that, forced you to do that, forced you to go get…molested.”

“She didn’t have a choice.  You don’t refuse missions in the League of Assassins.  She couldn’t refuse to send me anymore than I could have refused to go.”

Bruce growled dangerously, “She didn’t even bother to check if you were okay when you got back; just let you take a shower and put you back into rotation.”

“Father, I was the next Demon’s Head.  It wasn’t allowed.  I don’t know how she felt, and I was too young for it to bother me at the time.  Tonight just…just…”

Bruce’s eyes lightened as he picked up the guilt line from Dick.  “Son, you should have told me that this mission tonight would trigger you.  Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Damian looked down at his knees, still pulled up tight under his chin, “I didn’t want you to see me as weak, Father.”

Bruce let out an involuntary sob as he said, “Damian, you’re _not_ weak.  You didn’t kill Thorsen tonight, even though you had every provocation.  I’ve never thought of you as weak…”

“…But, you are going to think differently about me now.  Things are going to change here.  I…I don’t want things to change.”

Bruce sighed, “Yes, things will be different now.  This will remind me of how much I love you, and how much of a better parent I need to be to you.”

They stared at each other for a long minute before Damian asked, “Dad, can I…can I have a…a hug?  Please?”

Bruce had started moving on the ‘H’ of hug, and by the time the ‘G’ left his mouth, Bruce had crossed the room, picked Damian up, sat down on the bed, positioned his child in his lap, and was squeezing the boy to his broad chest.  Dick ached to join them, but guilt stilled his feet.  He didn’t want to be seen as a molester, especially by his beloved brother.  He felt he had done so much to hurt the boy, he didn’t want to make it worse.

Damian sobbed openly and plainly in his father’s arms, years of hurt and repression being driven out of his soul by pure, fatherly love.  Bruce rocked his baby, allowing tears of his own to flow unheeded.

When he was able, Damian held a hand out to Dick, who grabbed it with both of his own before the arm was fully extended.  Dick sat on the bed and held the hand to his cheek before whispering, “Are you sure this is okay?”

Damian smiled despite himself.  “It’s not okay, I want a hug.  Don’t stop being you, Dick.”

Dick plastered himself to Bruce and Damian, reveling in the combined warmth.  Damian spoke again, voice still low.  “Please, you two?  I don’t even care if I catch your cold, Tim.”

The four adults of Wayne Manor sat huddled around their boy.  He kept asking for them to come closer, hold him tighter, as if their actions could squeeze the bad memories from his mind.

An hour later, after Tim had fallen asleep on the foot of the bed from his latest round of cold medicine, and Alfred went to make a light midnight snack at Damian’s request, Bruce and Dick had no intention of letting Damian go.  Bruce had been doing some hard thinking over the past hour, and had some questions that couldn’t wait.

He nudged the boy in his lap, still clinging to his chest, “Hey, son.  You said this was four years ago?”

Damian nodded into Bruce’s chest, “Yes.  I killed him on the night of my eighth birthday, actually.”

Dick winced at the thought.  _Is that what passes for birthday presents in the League of Assassins, rape and murder?_

Bruce continued, “And you said it was South Indonesia?”

Damian sat up, looking at his Father, “I didn’t say ‘South’, but yes, it was.  How did you know that?”

“Do you remember the trafficker’s name?”

Damian looked confused, “Amin Taun, why?”

Bruce started at the familiar name and whispered reverently, “Taun?  Damian, that was a League case.”

“Yeah, and?”

Bruce shook his head, “No, you don’t get it.  It was a _Justice League_ case.  We were tracking him for months before he fled the States.  He was wanted internationally.”

Bruce paused for a minute, then said, “I just thought of something.  We came within minutes of meeting that night.”

Damian looked startled, “We did, Father?”

“I tracked Taun to Indonesia.  I had a tip that he was picking up some merchandise in a brothel.  We didn’t know that the merchandise was you, of course.  When I got there, the brothel owner said the killer had ran away.  Taun was very dead when I got there, but the blood was still fresh.  It was recent.  I could tell he had been with someone young when he died, too.”

“How could you tell that, Father?”

“You left a footprint behind in the blood.  It was a small, bare foot.”  Bruce absently took hold of Damian’s bare left foot as he spoke.  He squeezed it gently and said, “This one.  I just figured someone else killed him, and the…person…he was with that evening had run off, scared.”  Bruce’s stomach turned as he thought of his son as the trafficker’s whore for the evening.  “I followed the blood trail, but it stopped at the front door of the brothel.  I never thought the footprint belonged to the killer.”

Damian flinched at the word.  Bruce held him tighter.  “He was still bleeding out when I got there.  We missed each other by minutes.”

Another minute passed before Damian spoke again.  “Father?  Can we not use that word anymore?  At least, not when it applies to me?”

Looking down at his son’s dark head, Bruce asked, “What word, son?”

Damian sighed as he said, “Killer.  Murderer.  I’m trying to change, Father.  I don’t want to kill anymore.  I don’t want to be _seen_ as a killer anymore.”

Bruce read the pain in the young voice, “I see that you are changing, and I’m so glad you’re trying.  But, you have to remember, you _were_ a killer.  People are still going to remember that.  Now, I know that you aren’t anymore, and I’m sorry that my words hurt you.  I will try, son.  That much I do promise.”

Dick was softly snoring, leaning on Bruce’s shoulder.  Damian whispered, “Father?”

Bruce smiled, “Yes?”

Damian asked nervously, “Do you see me differently?  Now that you know?”

It was Bruce’s turn to sigh.  _I can’t lie to him, not after tonight._   “Yes, son, I do.  You are a more complete person to me now.  Now I know a little more about your past.  You faced something very painful tonight, and you’re still here.  You make me so proud, son.  I do see you differently, but in a good way.  Now, it’s out.  Now you have to let us help you get past this.  It won’t be easy, but, please, don’t shut us out.”

Damian nodded, accepting the explanation.  “Yes, Father, but I think what is going to help me most is returning to normal.  I don’t want things to change.  Life here…It’s good here, and it’s getting better.  How do we not let this ruin that?”

“We’ll have to figure that out as we go, Damian.  I don’t want things to change, either.  I promise, I will do everything in my power to not let anything change, okay?”

Damian nodded, and Bruce pulled the boy in tighter.

“Commissioner Gordon wants me to stop by his office tomorrow night.  He may want a statement from you, since we made sure he knew it was your bust.”

Damian grew nervous again, “I don’t think I can do that right now, dad.  I was kinda hoping to…not patrol…at least for a few days.”

Bruce considered it as he said, “You took a big bite out of the trafficking world tonight; he is going to want some details.  And, to be honest, he is probably going to want to congratulate you for what you did.  Anyway, he called us in on this case, we owe him at least a short explanation.”

Damian pleaded, “Can’t I just…write something out?  Or, have you tell him?  Not the whole story, of course, but…just the parts he needs to know?  Please, dad?”

Bruce smiled, _that’s the third time he called me ‘dad’.  I think I like it._   “Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?  You need some sleep.”

Damian started to shake as he looked up at Bruce with wide eyes.  “You aren’t leaving me, are you?”

Bruce smiled, “Look at your bed.  Do you think I could get up without waking everyone?”  Tim was asleep, snoring on the foot of the bed, while Dick was asleep next to Bruce.  Bruce moved Damian off his lap and placed him between Dick and himself.  Dick unconsciously snuggled into his youngest brother, drawing a small smile from Damian.

Damian looked at Dick’s sleeping face before looking back to his father.  “Help him, dad.  He’s going to take this very hard in the morning.”

“I’ll help him, son, but so will you.”

Bruce cuddled into Damian as the boy asked, “Was Taun really a League mission?”

“Yes.  We weren’t really happy with the way it turned out, but we were glad he was off the streets.  He was a very bad man.  Speaking of the League, I’m going to have to tell Superman about this, just to put a close to the open file we still have on Taun.”

“No, dad.”

“…No?”

Damian stuttered, “No.  I…I should be the one to tell him.  It was my mission.”

Bruce ran a hand over Damian’s hair, smiling, “It was _our_ mission.  We’ll tell him together.”

Damian yawned, “Okay.  Can we do it tomorrow and get it over with?”

“It’ll mean being in uniform, son.  We will have to go to the Watchtower to tell him.  We can’t just call Clark’s cell phone for something like this.”

“I know,” Damian said, just before falling asleep, cocooned between his father and brother, “Maybe it will help.”

The next morning, Damian awoke alone in his room.  The drastic change in his level of company left him feeling disconcerted.  He lay in bed for a while, thinking about the night before.  Baring his soul to his family shouldn’t have been as hard as it was.  He should have felt relieved that such a burden had been lifted from him, but he wasn’t.  No matter how much he tried to believe his father’s words, he knew that their relationship had been irreversibly changed.

His stomach rumbling, Damian got up and staggered towards the stairs.  While he had slept straight through the night, it hadn’t been restful.  Damian was very glad that it was still summer break, and he didn’t have to wake up for school this morning.  After all, today is Thursday. 

Damian approached the dining room, and he could hear voices coming from inside the room.  Bruce and Dick could be heard talking in hushed tones, setting the youngest Wayne on guard.  _They’re talking about me.  I knew this would happen_.

Entering the dining room, Damian made it two steps towards the table before Alfred noticed his presence and surreptitiously tapped Bruce’s arm.  Bruce and Dick were sitting at the table, heads leaning in for their conversation, while Alfred stood next to the table, leaning in to hear as well.  As Bruce looked up and followed Alfred’s gaze, the conversation died.  Three sets of adult eyes stared widely at the youth, as his sudden appearance in the room stole their ability to converse normally.

Seconds ticked past as the silence thickened.  Fresh tears welled up in Damian’s eyes as he broke the silence first, his whisper as loud as a shout in the deathly still room.  “You _promised_ , Father.  You said it wouldn’t change anything; that we could go on as we were.”

On the defensive, Bruce sputtered, “Damian, son, I…”

“You _lied_ to me!” Damian yelled as he took a couple steps towards the door.  “I _need_ you, and you _lied_ to me!”

“Damian! Wait!”  It was too late, Damian had fled from the room.  His footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs.

Bruce stood to follow his son when Dick caught his hand.  “Let him go, Bruce.  Anything you say right now will just make it worse.  Give him some time, he’ll calm down on his own, then go talk to him.”

Bruce glared at his eldest, “I can’t just do nothing, Dick.  He’s my son, and he’s hurting.  And the worst thing of all, he’s right.  He told me last night that he’s counting on me to make everything normal for him again.  He doesn’t want things to change, and the first thing he sees today is us, unable to say anything to him.  How could I have made that promise?  How can things _not_ change, after what he told us?”

Dick sighed, hurting, “Dad, he knows things are going to change.  What we have to do is make sure that the most important thing _doesn’t_ change.  We have to make sure that he knows that we still love him and support him.  So, we dropped the ball this morning.  That’s the best thing about Little D, though: he’ll give us another chance.  We just can’t fumble next time.”

Bruce took his seat and sighed exasperatedly, “So, what do I do?”

“Just what I said, Bruce.  Let him cool off.  You’ll see him soon.  If nothing else, he’ll be down for breakfast sooner or later.”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long, Dick.”

Upstairs, Damian was fuming.  He paced back and forth in the hallway, kicking himself for overreacting.  _How could I have been so stupid?  I knew things would change, but I didn’t think it would be like that.  They really helped me feel better last night, and I still need them.  I didn’t give them a chance, really.  I should go back, but…what am I supposed to do, or say?  Why is this so hard?  Why don’t I know how to handle this?_

As Damian passed his door for the third time, he stopped and considered going back to his room to change.  He was still really hungry, but he didn’t want to go crawling back to the dining room just to face another round of silent stares.

Across the hall, he heard a weak voice.  “Hello?  Is someone out there?  Can someone help me?”

Crossing the hall, Damian stuck his head into Tim’s room.  “Drake?  What’s wrong?”

It took Tim a second to focus on the boy at his door.  “Damian?  Oh, good.  I thought I heard someone outside my door.  Listen, can you do me a favor please?  Really quick?”

 _He looks much better than he did last night._   “Are you feeling alright, Drake?”  Damian entered the room, but still stood halfway between the bed and the door.

“Um…I feel a bit better.  I think my fever is breaking.  Damian, please, can you get me a glass of water?  I’m dying here, my throat is so dry.  I tried getting up to get it myself, but the room started spinning, and I really don’t want to throw up again.”  Tim ended his sentence with a burp and a hand covering his mouth, lest anything choose this time to come flying out.  “Please, Damian.  There is a glass here on the nightstand.  You can fill it in the sink in my bathroom.”

Staring at his ill brother, Damian took a slow step forward, then another.  Finally, he walked forward and took the glass the older teen held out.  Stopping before turning towards the bathroom, Damian said, “Lie down, Drake.  You need to rest.”  He retreated to the bathroom, filling the glass and also wetting a washcloth.

Returning to the bed, Damian handed the glass over.  Tim drank greedily, his parched throat praising the wonders of cool liquid.  Putting the empty glass down on the nightstand, he looked at the washcloth warily.  “Thanks, Damian.  I needed that.  What’s that for?”

“Lay down.”  Tim lay back on his pillows as Damian brushed the cool cloth across Tim’s forehead, the moisture wicking away the heat in his feverish brow.  “Pennyworth did this the last time I was sick.  I remember it feeling good.  I…I thought it might help.”

Tim closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.  “It does, thank you.  I know you said I need to rest, but you look like you could use a few more hours of sleep yourself.  Bad dreams?”

Feeling that Tim was the only one in the family who he could talk to presently, a startling revelation in and of itself, Damian sat hesitantly on the edge of the bed.  “I don’t need bad dreams.  It’s bad enough when I’m awake.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Damian refilling the water glass and mopping Tim’s brow.  Several minutes later, Tim opened one eye and said, “You know, I had a really weird dream last night.  I don’t know why I feel like telling you about it, but maybe you can…I don’t know…help me understand it?”

“I can try, but I’m not Grayson.”

“That’s okay, he would probably freak out over this one.  It was after the mission last night.  We all got back and were going to bed.  Dick came in and grabbed me and Alfred and dragged us into your room.  You were telling us how you were the one we rescued last night, and how the League of Assassins had placed you here for us to help.  Then Dick was saying that he was molesting you, and Bruce wanted to kill someone and…Damian?”

As Tim told his recollection, Damian could no longer meet his brother’s eyes.  He began shaking again, and took several deep breaths before he could respond.  When he spoke, it was in a shaky, hoarse voice.  “Tim?”

Tim was shocked at the use of his first name.  “Yeah?”

“You have a few points out of order, which I attribute to your fever, but…that wasn’t a dream.”

Tim stared, dumbfounded, then said, “Oh, sorry.  I bet that was something you don’t want to talk about, then.”

Damian shook his head slightly, “Not really, no.”

“So, you actually _were_ in a situation…like the one you busted last night?”

Damian gave no response, just a slight nod of assent.

Tim tried to sit up.  Failing that, he reached a hand out to rest on Damian’s arm.  The younger boy jumped, but didn’t recoil at the touch.  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Damian spoke in a hoarse whisper, “I just don’t want things to change.  I’m the same person, I don’t need to be treated differently just because something painful happened in the past that we happened to see again last night.”  He tilted his head and glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye.

Tim nodded, head only moving fractionally as the movement caused more nausea.  “Okay.  I can respect that.  You know, if you ever want to talk…”

“You’re offering to be my counselor, Drake?”

He shot the boy a small smile, “Actually, I was going to say that Dick will be all over it, but if you want to talk to me, I guess that’s okay, too.”

Damian let out an involuntary snort of laughter.  “I really don’t want to talk.  I’m sure Father and Grayson will force me into a long, drawn out conversation eventually, but it’s too painful right now.”

“Okay, how about this, then.  You need some sleep just about as much as I do.  You are welcome to do that here, if you want.  I can move over, the bed is more than big enough for two.  Oh…that’s not going to set off some sort of flashback, is it?”

Damian smiled again.  “Flashback, no.  Stomach flu, maybe.  Just…keep your hands where I can see them?”

Nodding as he moved over, giving Damian plenty of room, Tim said, “Yeah, sure, of course.  But, Damian?  I hope you know I would never do anything like that to you.  Believe it or not, I see you as a brother, just like Dick does.  I just want what’s best for you.”

Laying down and turning the light on the nightstand off, Damian replied, “I know, but it’s still new to me.  I see you as a brother too, Tim.  I’m starting to trust you, I just…”

“You need more time.  Trust isn’t easily built.  Believe me, I know.  Now, get some sleep.  In a couple hours, you can try starting the day over again.”  The brothers were asleep as soon as Tim stopped talking.

Forty-five minutes after Damian’s outburst, Bruce was pacing around the dining room.  “I was sure he would be back by now.  Dick, how long am I supposed to give him to cool off?”

Dick sighed for the twentieth time in as many minutes.  “He’s resilient, Bruce.  When he’s ready to talk, he’ll let us know.”

Alfred walked back into the dining room with a tray and said, “I am taking Master Timothy his breakfast and medicine, if either of you would care to join me.”

Dick looked at the load the butler was carrying.  “That’s an awfully big platter for someone in Timmy’s condition, don’t you think Alfred?”

Winking, Alfred said, “There are two patients upstairs, if I am not mistaken.  Perhaps a little help is in order, to make sure that everyone is recovering adequately?”

Bruce, only partially listening, snapped out of his funk a little too suddenly, “Oh, right!  Come on, Dick.  Let’s go help Alfred with breakfast.”

Smiling, Dick said, “Not too quick on the uptake this morning, are you, Bruce?”

Upstairs, Bruce burst into Damian’s room, ready to give the boy anything he needed, only to find the room empty.  He looked around quickly to make sure Damian wasn’t hiding in the closet or using the bathroom, then exited the room to find Dick standing at Tim’s door, gripping the door frame with a white-knuckled hand.

“Dick, he’s not here!”

“Shhh…Come look at this.”

Dick made room for Bruce in the doorway.  The older man stopped dead in his tracks as he beheld the tableau before him.  The two youngest residents of the Manor were sound asleep, side by side, sharing the same pillow.  Neither one showed any signs of distress or bad dreams.

Bruce whispered, “Now, how can Damian say he doesn’t want things to change, then go and do something like this?”

Dick was grinning as he whispered, “But, it’s so cute, though.  Wait, do you think Tim knows he’s there?”

“Think we ought to wake one of them up?”

Alfred was standing on Tim’s side of the bed.  He pulled the washcloth off of Tim’s forehead, then turned and whispered, “It’s still damp.  This couldn’t have been done more than a few minutes ago.”

Tim stirred at the removal of the cloth.  Opening his eyes blearily, he said, “Alfred?  What’s going on?”

“I don’t wish to alarm you, Master Timothy, but…are you aware of…”  Alfred looked at Damian.

Following Alfred’s eyes, Tim smiled and said, “Oh, yeah.  He needed some sleep, so I told him he could do it here, if he wanted.  I just hope I don’t give him my cold.”

Bruce and Dick stepped into the room.  Bruce asked, “How did this come about?”

“I woke up and needed something to drink.  I think my fever is breaking, but I was too dizzy to get up and get it myself.  I heard someone outside and called for help.  Damian answered.  Got me some water and the washcloth.  He actually did that part on his own, thinking it would help.  It did.  We talked for a bit.  He was just about asleep on his feet, so I offered for him to stay here.”

Dick looked guilty, “And…you don’t feel uncomfortable about this, after last night?”

“To be honest, I thought last night was some fever dream, until he told me it wasn’t.  What’s important is that _he_ doesn’t feel uncomfortable about it.  If he doesn’t feel uncomfortable, then why should we?”

Bruce turned to Dick, “He did repeatedly tell you that he likes you and doesn’t want you to stop cuddling him.  He needs you to be you, Dick.  Now more than ever.”

“I really want that, too, Bruce.  I just…”

“Just nothing, Grayson,” Damian said, his eyes still closed, “I want my brother.  I want the man who taught me what it’s like to be brothers to still be the brother he was two days ago.”

Dick pleaded, “Damian, you have to understand, you dropped a huge bomb on us last night.  I know you don’t want anything to change, but you have to give us some time to adjust to it, okay?”

“Pennyworth brought breakfast, I can smell it even under the dome.  You have until I’m finished eating to come over here and willingly give me a hug, or else.”

Dick tilted his head playfully, squinting at his youngest brother, “Or else what?”

As Damian sat up and took the plate of eggs and hash browns that was handed to him by the smiling butler, he said lightly, “I’ll come up with something.  Just remember, I haven’t gotten you back for the water balloon yet, either.”

What little color Tim had regained from his short nap and cold medicine quickly fled from his features.  “Um…Damian?  Can I point out that it _was_ Dick who threw the water balloon?  And…and I’m still sick, and shouldn’t be, you know, running for my life right now?”

“I think you’re safe on this one, Drake.  You’re the only one in this room who has treated me the same today as he did yesterday.”

Bruce winced in pain.  “Son, I’m sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.  I guess I’m still shell-shocked at everything that’s happened.  I know I made a promise, and I know I broke it.  Give us another chance, please.  Look, we’ll talk to Superman this afternoon, then the Commissioner tonight, then…we’ll play it by ear.  I can’t guarantee I won’t be overprotective of you from now on, but…that’s what a parent is supposed to do.”  Damian remained focused on his food, not reacting to Bruce’s speech.  “Damian, what can I…”

Damian cut him off, “Grayson’s same offer is on the table for you, too.  We don’t talk about last night after today unless absolutely necessary.  You don’t go looking for Mother to demand answers for any action or inaction she may have taken.  And…you come over here and give me a hug by the time I’m done eating.”

Bruce walked to the side of the bed and looked down at his son.  “I think we can work with that.”  Damian put his plate aside and stood on the bed, allowing Bruce to enfold the boy in his arms.  Dick followed hesitantly in Bruce’s wake, but as soon as his eyes met Damian’s, he crushed the boy to him with bruising force, tears in his eyes.

Several minutes later, when Dick finally lowered his brother back to the ground, Damian spoke around his own tears, “Was that so hard?”

“Harder than it should have been, but next time will be easier.”

“…And, there _will_ be a next time?”

Dick smiled, “Don’t worry, Little D.  You’ll go back to wishing I would leave you alone soon.”

Damian looked up sheepishly, “You know I never really meant that, right?”

“I know, brother, I know.”

Bruce looked at his watch and cursed under his breath.  “I hate to do this, especially now, but I have to keep your promise of not letting things change.  So does Dick, actually.  It’s Thursday, we have to call into an earnings meeting.”

Dick looked like Bruce had just kicked his puppy, but Damian just smiled, “It’s a phone meeting, right?  Not a video conference?”

“Right, why?”

“Mind if I come and sit in a little later?  I want to take a shower and change first.  I won’t talk, I just want to be near you two.”

Bruce shrugged, “It’ll be your company someday.  You might as well see now just how boring business can be.  Don’t make me send Dick looking for you, though.  He’ll purposely not find you until the end of the meeting, just so he doesn’t have to suffer through it.”

“Don’t worry, Father, I’ll be there.”

_Later that Afternoon…_

When Batman and Robin materialized in the Watchtower that afternoon, they saw Superman stopping and turning around at the door as they were announced.  Batman gave a small smirk as Superman’s cape whipped around him.

“Batman…and Robin.  I was a bit surprised to get your call.  Are you okay?”

Batman looked down at Robin, who was swaying a bit on his feet.  The boy croaked out, “Zeta Tube effect.  I’ll be okay in a second.”

Superman looked back at Batman.  “I just got here myself.  What’s so important, Batman?”

“We need a secure room.  We have something serious to discuss.”

Superman smirked as he led them down a hallway.  “Batman, I told you, Robin is too young for consideration for League membership.”

Robin looked up at Batman, shocked, “Wait, you proposed me for League membership?”

Internally groaning, Batman said, “Nightwing did, but I believe it was supposed to be an April Fool’s Day joke.  He wanted to see the looks on everyone’s faces when your name came up.  The reactions weren’t as…pronounced…as he was hoping.”

“What does that mean, Father?”

Superman reached over and ruffled the boy’s dark hair, and was surprised the gesture didn’t earn him a glare, “It means that you were given serious consideration, and not the upright outrage that he thought the nomination would garner.”

“Um…Did I get any votes?” Robin asked nervously.

“At least two, that I know of,” Batman said, pride showing on his face despite the cowl.

Superman spoke up, “Three, actually, but in the end, the age issue won out.  However, once you hit sixteen or seventeen, I think you’ll make it.”

Robin couldn’t help but smile at the thought of not only being nominated for League membership, but earning the votes of Batman, Nightwing, and Superman.  He was happy, despite the reason for their visit to the Watchtower.

Superman showed them into a room and closed the door.  Robin began looking around the room in what Superman first thought to be curiosity.  When the Boy Wonder began looking behind pictures and under couches, Superman smiled and said, “I can assure you, Robin, no one is listening.  The Watchtower hasn’t been bugged.”

Robin looked at Superman, then at Batman.  Getting a small smirk and a nod from Batman, Robin went to the window and pulled a thin film of clear plastic off the frame and showed it to the Kryptonian. 

“Are you sure?” Robin asked with a smirk to match Batman’s. 

Superman could make out an almost invisible web of embedded electronics on the plastic slip.  He stared incredulously back and forth between the Dynamic Duo and said, “Are you kidding me, Bruce?  You bugged the Watchtower?”

Giving a self-satisfied grin, Batman replied, “The very first time I came aboard.”

Shaking his head, Superman said, “Fine, let’s go, then.  I know one room that won’t be bugged.”

Superman led them to the habitation level and into quarters very close to the elevator.  It was identical to every other living quarters on the station, but something felt oddly familiar about this space to Robin.  Walking ahead of the adults, Robin asked, “Whose quarters are these?”

“It’s my room,” Batman said, a hint of a smile in his voice.  Batman could see Robin’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter.  _Let’s see how Superman likes this reaction._

Robin spun on his heel.  “You’re kidding, right Superman?  I wanted to go somewhere where we wouldn’t be overheard and recorded.”

Superman looked at the boy innocently, “What do you mean?  Why would Batman bug his own quarters?”

Robin looked back at Batman, who was covering the smile on his face with a hand.  “Is he serious, Father?  Are you joking, or are you really this dense?  Have you actually _met_ Batman before?  I’ve spotted more recording and scanning devices in this one room than in every other space I’ve been in on the Watchtower today, and I’ve only given it a cursory look.”

“…But…”

“Think, Superman.  Don’t you think Batman would want to know what’s going on in this room more than almost any other?  They’re _his_ quarters, he will want to know if anyone comes or goes when he isn’t here.”

Turning, Superman said, “Just how much do you spend on surveillance equipment annually?”

Batman said, “We’re safe enough here, Robin.  No one sees these recordings but me, and you already told me last night.  Before we start, who else is aboard the Watchtower?”

“Hawk Man and Wonder Woman are on duty right now.  Shift change is in 30.  I have the next shift alone, so no one should be up to bother us.”

Robin became visibly apprehensive at the mention of Wonder Woman.  “M…maybe we should wait until later, Father?”  _She can read minds, I don’t want her anywhere near me until I can control this._

A soft ding was heard from the hallway as the elevator door opened.  Batman flew from the room, knowing who was approaching.

“Batman, what’s wrong?” the woman asked.

Batman met Wonder Woman at the elevator door with a dangerous look on his face.  “Don’t do it, Diana.  Stay out of my head.  Stay out of my _son’s_ head!  He doesn’t need or want what you’re planning on doing.  Just let him be.”

She was shocked at the greeting. “But, Bruce, I’ve never felt either of you in such pain.  At least let me help.”

“Father.”

Batman whipped around to see Robin standing in the doorway, a pained look on his face.

“Look at her face.  Look at her _eyes.  She already knows.”_

Batman growled as he dragged her into his quarters.  “Damn it, Diana.  How many times do I have to tell you?  Stay out of our minds.  You went over the line today.  He’s _my_ _son_ , damn it!”

Robin placed a hand on Batman’s arm, “Father, it’s okay.  I’m not happy that another person knows, but there is nothing we can do about it now.  Let’s just get this over with, so we can go home.”

Batman instantly turned from Wonder Woman to face his son, “Are you sure, son?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore, dad.  I just want this to be over.”

Superman was looking lost at the three other people in the room.  Awkwardly, he said, “Well…should we get started?”

Batman closed the door and said, “Clark, bring up the cold case file on Amin Taun.”

“The trafficker you found dead in Indonesia?”  Superman turned to the computer in the wall and accessed the file.  “What about him?  He’s still dead, right?”

“Yes, and we have identified the…the killer.”  Batman and Robin both winced at the word after Bruce had promised to try not to use it in connection with Damian.  Unfortunately, there was no other adjective that would make it easier for Damian.

Superman didn’t see the wince, but looked hopeful at the news.  “You caught him?  The both of you?”

Robin stepped into the middle of the room and took a deep breath.  Looking Superman in the eye, the boy straightened his spine and said, “I killed Amin Taun.”

The room was silent for a minute as Superman absorbed the admission, then the questions started flowing from the reporter.  “You?  What?  How?  When?  Batman, tell me this is some sort of sick joke.”

Slightly shaking, Robin said, “I killed Amin Taun four years ago, in an Indonesian brothel, with a knife, while I was with the League of Assassins.”

Superman shook his head, “I’m sorry, I just find this hard to believe.  How did this even come up?”

Batman said, “We took down Thorsen last night.  It was…similar…to events from four years ago.  We had a…a long night last night.  This is one of the things we found out during the night.”

“What were the other things?” Superman asked.

“NO!” Robin shook his head emphatically, his voice coming close to cracking at the denial.  “You have enough to complete and close the file on Taun.  That’s all we came for.  All the report needs to say is that the…killer…has been identified as an agent of the League of Assassins, who is no longer active in their service and is out of the killing business.”

Wonder Woman spoke up and said, “But, Robin.  That is barely the tip of what is going on.”

Robin snapped, “The rest is personal.  It doesn’t belong in the report.  As for you, Amazon, I am not an object for pity, nor am I to become water-cooler gossip.  You already _stole_ the information from my mind.  It goes no further.  If I find out that what you stole from me gets out, I don’t care how invulnerable you think you are, I _will_ find a way to end you.”

Superman said soothingly, “Okay, Robin.  I can close the file on Taun.  I won’t ask as the head of the Justice League, but as a close family friend, I would like to know what happened, and how I can help.  It looks like you are hurting deeply.  There must be something I can do?”

Robin thought for a second, then asked, “Father, are there crime scene photos in the file?”

“Yes, son,” Bruce nodded, “I took them myself.  Which one do you want?”

“The one that will tell him what he wants to know, without me having to say it.”

Batman pulled up the crime scene photos he took four years ago, then selected one that showed blood patterns.  Had he looked behind him, he would have seen Robin turning away from the screen, unable to look at what he had once done.  Batman zoomed in on a set of small, bloody footprints, heading for the room’s door.  Turning, he saw Robin sitting on the narrow bunk.

He said softly, using Bruce’s voice instead of Batman’s, “Is this the one you want, son?”

Damian looked at the screen and, seeing only small red footprints, stood up again and nodded.

Superman looked confused, “I don’t get it.”

Damian sighed and said, “Those footprints didn’t belong to a witness, they belonged to the…killer…to me.”

Still looking confused, Superman replied, “Why were you barefoot in a brothel?  And, how old were you?  Those are pretty small prints.”

Wonder Woman walked over and placed a hand on Superman’s shoulder.  “Clark, even you can see how painful this is for him, don’t push.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“I won’t,” Robin whispered, “I’ll never speak about what happened there again.”

Horrified realization dawned on Superman’s face as he put the facts in evidence together and extrapolated on the location.  He gasped, “Damian, no!  Tell me it’s not true.  You were…”

Robin interrupted, “…I was undercover for the League of Assassins.  No sacrifice was too great to maintain my cover until my target arrived.”

“…And, I take it that your cover lasted more than an hour?  Day?  Week?  _Weeks_?”  Superman’s voice grew more desperate as Robin nodded to each span of time.

Robin took a shuddering breath and turned to Batman.  “Can we go now, Father?”

Looking concerned, Batman said, “If you want to rest for a while, we can stay here and they can leave?”

“No, it’s going to be bad enough explaining last night to the Commissioner.  Let’s just get it over with.”

“Damian!” Superman called as the boy reached the door.  He turned back to the Kryptonian, “Thank you for telling us.  That can’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but remember our agreement.  No one hears anything about this.  I have access to Kryptonite.”

As they materialized back in the Batcave, Batman placed a hand on Robin’s back and said, “You handled that very well, son.  I’m proud of you.  I especially liked the bit about the kryptonite.”

As they approached the car, Batman could feel a quake in his son’s shoulders.  Robin then turned and buried his face in Batman’s stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around his father.  He sobbed quietly and said, “I can’t do this, Father.  Please don’t make me.”

Batman kneeled and wrapped his boy in his arms.  “Shhh…You’re doing so well.  The hard one is over.  Talking to the Commissioner will be easy compared to confronting Superman.  All he needs to know about is what happened in the basement last night, about Thorsen.  He has no interest and no need to know about Indonesia.  You’re almost there.  Ten minutes, in and out, then I can bring you home, or you can stay out on patrol with me.  We can do a car patrol, we don’t have to swing around tonight.”

“Father, please,” the boy sobbed, “I don’t want them thinking of me as a…a plaything.”

“They won’t, Damian.  We can trust Clark and Diana.  Damian, I want you to come with me tonight.  I want to be able to see my amazing son.”

Nodding as he sniffled, Damian said, “Okay, Father.  I’ll talk to the Commissioner, for you.  But I want to come back home right after.”

“Do you have a plan for tonight, then?”

Damian nodded, “Grayson owes me a hug.  I can’t stand the way he looks at me now.  I don’t like it.  I’m the same person, he’s the same person, he just knows a little more about my past now.  Why does he look at me like I’m suddenly a different person?  Why does he look at me like I’m going to shatter if he touches me?”

“Why do you want him to hug you so much?”  Damian didn’t notice that Bruce wasn’t looking at him.

“Because he’s not Grayson if he doesn’t.  That’s how he shows he cares.  I’ve…I’ve grown used to it, just like I’ve gotten used to you being overprotective.  I…I’m comfortable here.  This is home.”

Batman stood suddenly, ripping himself out of his son’s grasp.  Robin stared, looking betrayed for a second, until Nightwing’s arms wrapped securely around Robin’s shoulders.  He had heard the Zeta Tube announce their arrival from the locker room as he prepared to leave on patrol, and had overheard the whole conversation.  Batman had noticed him standing in the door of the locker room, trying not to cry as Damian laid out how much he cared for his older brother.

“I’m sorry, little brother.  I didn’t know it meant so much to you.  You’re sure I’m not going to give you flashbacks?”

Robin sighed as he held on to the strong arms around him.  “I can’t guarantee I’m not going to flinch when you sneak up behind me, but I haven’t had a real flashback from you in months.  They’ve stopped.  You had a big hand in curing me.  Now, I guess I just need…preventative medicine?”

Nightwing squeezed tighter and said softly, “Well, just call me Doctor Dick.”

Robin turned around and looked at his brother.  “I bet that sounded far less creepy in your head.”

Dick looked horrified before Damian smiled and said, “…Now, Male Nurse Nightwing seems a little more appropriate.”

“Why you…”  Dick broke off as he started tickling Damian’s ribs.  The boy laughed like the child he had never allowed himself to be before, causing Bruce and Dick to sprout genuine smiles for the first time in days, right up to the point where Damian flinched away from Dick with a hissed “ow.”

Bruce was instantly at his side as Dick recoiled back in fear.  “What is it, son?”

“My ribs have been a little tender the past couple weeks.  He just hit a bad spot.”

Dick approached again, “The same ones you broke in the explosion last year?”  There was fear in Dick’s voice.

“Yeah, them again.”

Bruce said, “I’ve noticed you favoring that side recently.  I’m going to have Dr. Thompkins take some x-rays, make sure they healed properly.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Come on, let’s go see the Commissioner, so we can get you back here, if that’s still what you want.”

Robin nodded, “I think so, Father.  I really do need to sleep.  Maybe it will be more restful tonight.”

“Do I still owe you a hug, Baby Bat?”

“Owe? Maybe not, but I would like some credit built up.  I expect you to come see me when you get home.  Wake me up if you have to.”

Dick looked nervous, “Damian, I…”

“You don’t have to stay the night with me, I know you aren’t comfortable with that just yet.  I just want to see you when you get home, just to see you.”

“Okay Little D, have fun with the Commissioner.  Make sure there is some sort of medal in it for him, okay Bruce?”

“I’ll just be happy if I don’t have to testify in court,” Damian said.

“I’d like to see the process server who could get in here to serve you a summons,” Bruce joked, “Let’s go.”

_Thirty Minutes Later…_

“Commissioner, you have some visitors in the lobby.”  His secretary’s voice came over the intercom from the outer office.

Taking another bite of his dinner, Gordon replied, “Send them in, Susan.”

Commissioner Gordon dropped his sandwich back on his plate in shock as Batman and Robin walked in through the office door.  “You two using the door?  Is there something wrong?  Are either of you injured?  Did I lock the window tonight?”

“Relax, Commissioner.  You know part of my job is to keep you on your toes,” Batman stood before the desk, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder.  “What do you need for your report?”

Wiping his face on a napkin, Jim Gordon stood up and said, “I’ll get to that in a bit.  That was an excellent capture last night.  You will be happy to know that all the children are local, and are being returned to their parents.  There is just one left who hasn’t been picked up yet.”

“Um…Which one, Commissioner?” Robin asked nervously.

Walking over to his coat rack, the man said, “The one who helped answer a nagging question about you two.”  The Dynamic Duo stiffened, wondering if they had done something to give away their identities last night.

“What question is that, Commissioner,” a hint of nerves was in the Caped Crusader’s voice.

Commissioner Gordon pulled Robin’s cape off his coat rack and walked towards the Boy Wonder with the garment held in front of him.  “Whether you only have one uniform each, or a whole wardrobe.  Since Robin is wearing a cape tonight, and I have one here, I can assume that the answer is the whole wardrobe.”

Relaxing, Robin took the cape back as Batman said, “Body armor is not exactly machine washable; we need to have more than one.”

Robin looked from the cape to the Commissioner, “You said the boy who gave you this is still here?  Can I see him?”

The Commissioner thought about the request, then smiled at the young vigilante, “I don’t see why not, especially since he had been asking if he could see you again before his parents pick him up.”

Batman placed a warning hand on the boy’s shoulder and asked, “Robin, are you sure?”

“Yes, Batman, I have to.”

Gordon led them to a conference room, where the young child sat with a female officer.  Looking through the window, Robin said to Batman, “He looks younger than he did last night.”

Jim approached the window and said, “He said his name is Bobby.  His parents were out of town attending a meeting and support group for parents of abducted children at the Center for Missing and Exploited Children, or they would have been here already.”

Robin walked to the partially opened door when the Commissioner warned him, “Be careful, Robin.  He has been really jumpy.  Try not to scare him.”

“I won’t scare him, Commissioner,” Robin opened the door slowly and stuck his head in, saying, “Hi, is it okay if I come in?”

The boy gave a big smile, jumped off his chair, ran up to the older boy, and wrapped his arms around him.  Robin nervously returned the hug, glancing over at the slightly grinning Batman.  As Robin entered the conference room, he heard Batman tell the Commissioner, “I don’t think you have to worry about Robin scaring him, Jim.”

The boy took his seat again, and Robin asked the officer if they could have a few minutes alone.  She left hesitantly, and only after Robin pointed to Commissioner Gordon and Batman, watching from the observation window.  The officer still left the door open as she exited the room.  Robin thought better of closing it, and instead walked over to the boy.  He was about to kneel in front of the chair, until he remembered the first time he laid eyes on this child.  He sat on the table next to him instead.

“Thanks for coming, Robin.  I didn’t think I would ever see you again.  I wanted to thank you for what you did for me, for us.  We didn’t want to be there.”

“I know you didn’t, Bobby.  No one ever wants to be where you were, doing what they made you do.”

The boy gasped, “You know my name?  That’s awesome!”  The boy grew nervous at the line of conversation, “Um…so…what you told me last night was true, then?”

Robin sighed, not wanting to look at the boy.  “How old are you, Bobby?”

“Eight.”

“I was the same age when I was…forced to do what…you were forced to do.  It wasn’t nice, but I was able to escape, just like you.  I was able to find a family, just like you will be going back to your family.  I survived, just like you.”

“Woooow.  Um…does it get easier?  I mean, I…I’m scared to tell my parents what happened.”

Robin looked at the boy, blue eyes meeting white lenses, “I don’t know, Bobby.  I never really talked about what happened to me until last night.  I mean, yeah, it’s helped, but…you know…”

“Yeah, I know.”  Both boys sank into an uncomfortable silence.

“Bobby, I hate that you know what I’m talking about, but I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Robin.”

Robin placed a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, the same shoulder he squeezed the night before.  “When your parents get here, and they take you home, the police will have already filled them in on a lot of what happened.  But, they’re going to want to talk to you, too.  I want you to tell them everything.”

“…Everything?” Bobby gasped out the question, scared of what it implied.

“Yes, Bobby, everything.  No matter how much it hurts you to tell it, no matter how much it hurts them to hear it, I want you to tell them everything.  Everything you remember.  Everything you saw, everything you did, everything you were forced to do, everything that was done to you.  They need to know, and you may not think so, but you need to talk about it.  They’re your parents, nothing you tell them will make them love you any less.”

Looking at Batman, conversing with Commissioner Gordon in the window, Robin continued, “It happened to me four years ago, and I kept it inside all this time, and it hurt.  But, when I told Batman everything last night, it still hurts, but it’s not as bad as it was, because he is helping me.  Your parents will help you, too.”

Bobby looked astonished, “Gosh, Robin.  That’s going to be really hard.”

“No, Bobby, it’s going to be the hardest thing you ever have to do, but it will be the best thing for you.  You’ll get past this, I know you will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, when I came in this room, you were doing the one thing that I have a hard time with, you were smiling.  If you can keep smiling, then nothing is impossible.”  Robin held up the cape, “Did they make you give this back last night?”

Bobby looked at the cape, a bit nervous, “Well…a bit.  I wasn’t sure if you had another, so I agreed to give it back.”

Smiling, Robin said, “Well, as you can see, I have another, so I think this should go back where it was.”  Robin wrapped the cape around the boy again, clipping it to his shirt, and pulled the hood up over the child’s head.  Bobby gave a laugh as the hood covered most of his face.

“When you look at this cape in the future, don’t think of what happened to you leading up to getting it.  Instead, think about the person who was wearing it, and remember that you both survived the same circumstances, and you are both going to be stronger in the future for it, okay?”

Bobby nodded, “Yeah, strength and power.  Wow.  Can I be you when I grow up, Robin?”

Robin chuckled, “If you become me when you grow up, then who am I going to be?”

“Um…him?”  Bobby pointed to Batman, who was sticking his head in the open door.

“Everything okay in here, boys?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Batman, sir.” Bobby said with a smile, barely visible under the oversized hood.  “Can Robin wait with me until my parents come?”

Robin gave an imperceptible nod of his head, and Batman said, “I think that would be good for the both of you.  Now, about the cape?”

Robin ran his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, about that.  Well, you can never have too many Robins, right?”

Batman grumbled, “I can barely manage the ones I have.”

Bobby said brightly, “That’s okay, Mr. Batman.  I can’t be Robin.  I’m afraid of heights.  But…he said I could keep the cape…I mean…if it’s okay with you?”

Batman had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the younger boy.  _Maybe it will help him get over the inevitable pain that is coming for him, and they really do look alike.  Dick would call this adorable._   Batman scratched at his face to hide the fact that he was activating the cowl camera.  Robin seemed to catch the slight movement, and put his own hood up for a couple seconds, before taking both of their hoods down and staring and his father for a few uninterrupted seconds.  Batman gave a smirk before scratching again to deactivate the camera.  “Looks good on you, Bobby.  If nothing else, you have the beginnings of a great Halloween costume. Enjoy it, you can’t get real Bat-stuff in just any store.”

Batman returned to the Commissioner.  “Well, Batman?”

“They’re fine.  If circumstances were different, they might have been friends.  Too bad, really.  Do you have everything you need for your report?”

“I think I have everything.  Those boys Robin rescued were able to tell us more than enough that we don’t need a statement from Robin.  They couldn’t have been more thankful and appreciative to your boy.  I suspect we’re going to be getting some thank you letters from some appreciative parents addressed to you and Robin.”

“You know how to reach us, Commissioner.”

“And, if they want to pay you for your services?  I had a couple inquiries about that from several parents.”

Batman was angered by the suggestion.  “Tell them that their children are not for sale.  Knowing that they are safe at home is enough for me.  If they insist, I hear that Gotham CPS is underfunded, they can make a donation there.”

“Very noble, Batman.  I will make sure that gets around.”

Several minutes later, a female yell was heard echoing down the hall.  “Bobby?  Bobby!”

A small streak trailing a yellow and black cape went flying out of the conference room.  “MOM!”

Robin left the conference room to join Batman and the Commissioner as the family was reunited.  Both mother and son cried in joy at their reunion.  Robin looked up at Batman and said, “Well, I guess we’re done here.”

Batman placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, as he had seen Robin do with Bobby, “We can go, if you’re ready.”

Before they could move off, Bobby rounded the corner, dragging his mother, who gasped at the sight of the Dynamic Duo.  “Mom, meet Batman and Robin.  Robin saved me!  Batman was there, too, but not until after.  Robin was the one who beat up the bad guys.”

Recovering from her shock, she held out a hand to Batman, who took it gently.  “I…I can never properly thank you for what you’ve done for me and my family.  Words just don’t seem like enough, but thank you.  Thank you so much.  I never thought I would see my Bobby again.”  She broke down in tears again.

Robin took a step forward and said softly, “You don’t have to thank us, ma’am.  Just take care of Bobby.  He’s special.  He’s going to have a lot to tell you.  Please, just listen.  Don’t judge him for something that someone else did to him, just love him more.  That…That’s the best thing for him right now.”

His speech broke through the tears, and she hugged the Boy Wonder.  “Thank you.  I will.”

Ten minutes later, the Batmobile sped along towards the cave.  Stopping to sit with Bobby had cut enough out of patrol time that Batman decided to call it a night.  Batman was not angry about the lost patrol.  He felt that it had been time well spent.  Robin didn’t seem as hurt as he was earlier in the evening, even though he was still quiet.

As the Batmobile left the city, Robin spoke quietly.  “Batman?”

“Yes, Robin?”

“Thank you for talking me into coming tonight.  I’m glad tonight ended up the way it did.”

Batman set the autopilot and turned to face his son.  “You impressed me tonight.  You are still hurting, but you put that aside to help that child with what is going to be a difficult time for him.  He’s going to make it now, I can tell, and he will have you to thank.  I’m proud of you, son.  I don’t think I could have done what you did tonight.”

Turning to face Batman, Robin said, “Really?”

“Really.  How is it that you have taken the best qualities of all of us?  You’re as strong as me, as compassionate as Dick, as loyal as Jason, and as smart as Tim.  All of that, and I get the pleasure of calling you my son, too.  I really am lucky.”

Robin blushed at the compliment.  “I’m lucky, too.  I get you for a dad.  You’re not as bad at it as you say you are.”

“Thank you, son.”

After another quiet minute, Robin said, “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Just make sure you print out a couple set of those pictures.  I want a good one of hoods up and a good one of hoods down.  I know you turned on the camera.  You stared at us for a good fifteen seconds trying to get your pictures.”

Batman smiled, “Thanks for that, too.”

“Would it be wrong to mail one anonymously to Bobby?”

“Wouldn’t really be that anonymous, would it?”

“No, but it would put a smile on his face.”

“Then we’ll do it, at least, once we get Dick to stop hogging all the copies.”

As the Batmobile pulled into the cave, Bruce pulled off his cowl and gloves, then gently peeled Damian’s mask off his face.  Looking into the deep blue eyes that matched his own, Bruce said, “Damian, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and my biggest regret in life is that I haven’t been around you more.  I’ve missed so much of your life through things that were out of our control.  Thank you for filling a gap in my heart that I didn’t even know was there.”

As tears fell from his eyes, Damian just leaned over and let himself be engulfed in his father’s embrace, feeling clean and whole for the first time in his life.

 

**A/N:  Here is another tale in my effort to combine all my stories into a cohesive universe.  If you read closely, and have read all my other stories (not trying to run my views up here, no not at all, wink wink) then you should notice connections to several other stories.  At the point that I am finishing this, there are connections to stories that aren’t even written yet, which will be interesting to see if I can remember to add the connecting lines in the correct places.**

**By the time this is posted, I will have a timeline posted on my profile page, outlining the chronological order of my Batman universe.  The only reason that hasn’t been posted earlier is that I have been refining it, and it currently includes several tales that have yet to be written, and I am not really one for spoilers.  I’m working as fast as I can, but sometimes I just can’t stand to sit in front of a computer for hours at home, when my entire 9-5 has me staring at computer monitors all day.**

**This story originally started out to be something entirely different.  The story this was meant to be several months ago, when I first outlined it, is being turned into my second multi-chapter story.  I pulled this aspect out of it early on, but didn’t want to scrap it entirely.  The other story will work much better without this in it, but it may be referenced.  I haven’t decided yet, since I’m not there yet.**

**I sincerely hope that reading this story hasn’t triggered any flashbacks or bad memories for any of my readers.  Given the subject matter involved, I planned on releasing this as an ‘M’ rated story.  Since it turned out less graphic than I originally thought it would, I am going to put this out as a strong ‘T’.  If there are any complaints or strong feelings, I will gladly change it to an ‘M’.  I am still on the fence, so let me know.**

**Thanks for sticking with me this far.  There is more good stuff coming, so stay tuned.**


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